


Refusing Tragedy

by spookyserpent



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Avengers:Endgame happens, F/F, F/M, M/M, Vormir, red room mention, unfortunately
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:00:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21891784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyserpent/pseuds/spookyserpent
Summary: How Avengers: Endgame should’ve ended.Tony can rest now. Thor becomes whole. Steve finds peace. Natasha realises they won.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t appreciate Endgame. So this is the product of that. 
> 
> It’s unbeta-ed so beware.
> 
> Also, spoilers, obviously.

Staring at Strange’s index finger, Tony knows what he has to do. It must be him. After all these years, he’s doing exactly what Steve said back when they met: he’s laying down on that wire to let the others pass over. 

The Infinity Stones bond with his skin and it’s not just agony: it is Hell. His heart is already weak, his body exhausted and his mind too busy trying to save everyone. His parents are dead, Vision is dead, Natasha is dead, Peter has only just come back. One way or another, he is alone. 

His skin is burning and blistering, his blood seems to still. Everything aches in a way it did after Afghanistan, after the torture, after the portal in New York. He doesn’t know if he’s really alive or if he is simply a corpse pretending to still breathe. 

So he fits Thanos with the Tony-Stark-is-done-with-your-shit look and murmurs through bloody lips, “and I am Iron Man.” 

Clicking his fingers makes him truly review his life choices. He was mistaken. This, this is Hell. The power from the Stones ripple through his body as though Thor has just struck him with all of his power. It burns and burns and burns. 

He thinks of Pepper, who’s only a few feet away, of Peter, of Harley, of Happy. Of his gorgeous little girl, Morgan. He wants to apologise, to tell her that she’s going to be okay, that he’ll watch over her forever. 

The possibilities flash before his eyes as he collapses: maybe having another baby with Pepper, of watching Morgan grow, get married, have children of her own, of allowing Peter to have a father figure that doesn’t die, introducing him to Harley, of growing old with his family beside him.

But Tony can never kid himself. He is a hero, a superhero, who’s an arrogant asshole with more issues that he can possibly name. He was never meant to survive this, just like Natasha, the woman who tried so hard to become something better, can never live to realise her ledger was wiped clean years ago. 

He feels Pepper come closer, feels Peter grab him and then here’s the phrase that makes him stop fighting the urge to drift off, “you can rest now.” 

Only, only Tony forgot that sometimes life isn’t so shitty. 

A strong hand grips his right one and the stark contrast of pain seems to ebb every so slightly. He turns his scarred head to see Steve, stupid, reckless, suicidal Steve grip his hand containing the stones and smile at him, that perfect smile. 

“Let me help, Tony.” 

The power spreads and then Pepper presses a hand against his cheek and it ebbs into her. Peter follows, Rhodey, Thor, Clint, Bruce, Barnes, Sam, T’Challa, Shuri, Wanda, Okoye, Danvers. The power ripples out and for a second, dragging in a breath doesn’t feel like ingesting fire. Cool, crisp oxygen floods is lungs as more grab each other, until the Avengers, the heroes, become one. 

When Tony closes his eyes this time, the dread and relief of dying doesn’t stir inside him. He isn’t alone. He’s made a family for himself. 

When he closes his eyes, he hears Quill giggle and squeak, “power of friendship, bitches. Always works.” 

He hears Barnes growl out, “after the dust has settled, we’re gonna have a talk about your reckless behaviour, punk.” 

He hears Pepper’s and Peter’s sobs and Rhodey muttering, “we’re never going to hear the end of this, are we?” 

Tony Stark closes his eyes but it is not for the last time. He wakes up in a hospital bed with Pepper curled around their daughter and breathes a sigh of relief. 

He can rest now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part is up! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it and thank you for the kudos and simply reading :)
> 
> You can always ask me to write something: I’m very willing and I can write most characters.

Thor stands on the edge of the battlefield, ignoring the mayhem and destruction behind him. Instead, he stares at the setting sun, bathing in the golden light. 

“I wish you were here to see this, brother,” he can’t help but murmur. 

“I hate to say this,” Valkyrie pops up at his side and he can’t stop the jump of surprise. Her lips spread into a shark’s grin, “but I would’ve wanted the little weasel there. He could’ve been useful.”

Thor allows the laugh to pass his lips. “He would’ve.” 

The moment sits between them and the sounds of medical shouts and cries of pain and joyous squeaks fill the area behind them. 

Thor would give his life to see Loki again. He would gladly fight Thanos’ army again, would fight Hela again, would rip out his own heart to just hold Loki against him. 

He feels empty without him. Like a part of his soul has been jaggedly cut away. Even after winning, he doubts he will be able to sleep. The alcohol at least allows him a tiny bit of bliss away from the image of Thanos’ hand around his brother’s throat; Loki’s blue face, his wide eyes, the horrible snap of bones shattering. 

“We need to talk about you,” Valkyrie interrupts his dark thoughts. “We’ve succeeded against Thanos so now is the time for you to pull yourself together for your people-“

“-that is why they will thoroughly enjoy their new Queen.” He slips in and watches as she blinks at him, mouth hanging open. 

“What?” 

He smiles and for once, it’s not fake. “I am not fit to be King. I doubt I ever have been. The Asgardians deserve a ruler that will always have their best interests at heart. I have lost myself and until I find myself again, I will do them more harm than good. You will be a perfect Queen, Brunnhilde.” 

“If you are playing with me,” she raises a threatening finger at him and his smile only widens. 

“Go. They need you, now more than ever. I will always fight for them and when I find myself again, I will return to be your advisor. That is, if you’ll have me.” 

“Always.” She sends him a watery smile before quickly blinking towards the sun. “Where will you go?” 

He shrugs. “I do not know but a journey awaits me. I can feel it.” 

Standing on her tiptoes, she places a kiss to his hairy cheek. “Thank you, Thor. Be safe.” 

Before he can reply, she’s darting back towards the wounded, to her people. He smiles at her retreating figure and turns back to the sun. 

“So he can be self-sacrificing too,” a voice speaks from his shoulder, “you really are a stupid oaf, aren’t you?” 

Ice swims up his veins and his bone marrow freezes. He cannot look, will not look at a poor excuse of a hallucination, even if the voice is perfectly smooth with just enough loathing in it, even though he can see black hair and pale skin and a green outfit in his peripheral. 

“I cannot believe you got fat,” the voice continues, as though five years has not passed, as though nothing has happened, as though a neck was not snapped. “Odin would have a fit if he saw you. At least your hair is back. I really did not appreciate the short cut.” 

“You are not real.” Thor booms. Or tries too. It comes out like a sob, the words stuck in his throat. Maybe if he says it enough, the figure will disappear. “I watched you die. I mourned you. You are not real.” 

“Really, brother?” The voice chuckles then snorts. “I know you only have one working eye but I thought you were still able to see. You know me: death does not take.” 

Anger thaws the ice inside and Thor spins, prepares to strike when he spots the purple bruise spanning most of the figure’s neck. He has tried to hide it but Thor can see it peaking out the top of his high collar. His hair is still greasy and black like oil, his eyes still intense and cunning, his mouth still quirked up at the corners like he knows just how to destroy someone with his silver-tongue. 

The anger washes away as the air is punched out from his lungs. “Loki,” he whispers, terrified and scared in a way he has never felt before. Please, he begs, please let this be real. 

“Hello, brother.” He waves a long-fingered hand at the dying light behind them, bathing them gold. “I told you the sun would shine on us again.” 

When Thor manhandles Loki into a hug - and Loki surprisingly doesn’t fight back but does grumble loudly about it - he finally feels complete, like his soul is stitching itself back together. 

When Loki threatens to stab him with a knife if Thor continues to crush his ribs, Thor pulls back to see the same relieved look in his green eyes. 

“You told the Valkyrie you needed to find yourself, so I am willing - if you promise to resist the urge to manhandle me again - to offer you a chance to come with me to fix some inter-dimensional issues.” Loki says and Thor cannot reply quick enough. 

He does not tell his brother that the adventure is pointless: he doesn’t need to find himself anymore. Loki is here. That is all Thor needs to be whole.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final instalment, lads. Enjoy.
> 
> Also if y’all want me to write anything, I’m bored and hating my family so hit me up :)

Taking the Stones back isn’t as hard as stealing them in the first place. All Steve has to do is blend in and deposit them. Simple. 

Well. Up until he spots Peggy again. His gorgeous Peggy, with her perfect hair and red lipstick. He wants to stop his pointless task and drop to his knees, beg her for one last dance.

He would. There are many reasons why he should. She deserves to know that he will survive, that he will in fact thrive. She deserves to not worry about him, to move on without thinking about the What Ifs, the Could Have Beens. 

He’s three feet away when he spots the wedding ring around her finger and he reminds himself of their talk before she passed. She married and had two children. He forgot about the pictures about her bedside, had blind-sighted himself believing that he could stay and everything would be perfectly normal. 

Steve Rogers had stopped being normal the minute he volunteered for the Supersoldier program. 

He drops his head and keeps walking. 

Last stop, Vormir. The Soul Stone. It’s a world of horrid grays and swirling purples. The mountain he climbs is frankly annoying but Clint had told him that Natasha was lost at the top. He knows what he has to do. 

“Welcome Steven Grant Rogers, son of Sarah Rogers.” He freezes at the voice and drops to a crouch. 

Glaring at he hooded figure with a red face, he snarls, “Red Skull, son of a bitch.” 

The figure almost seems amused. “I am no one but the Soul Stone’s keeper, which you have in your possession. What do you intend to do?”

Slowly rising, he raises his eyes at the man, who appears to be no threat. “Give it back.”

“You cannot return it. A soul for a soul. Natalia Romanova gave her soul for the Stone.”

“And I am giving you the Stone back for Natasha’s soul.” Steve can feel the anger spread slowly, like walking into a pool of hot lava. He is not here to bargain, he’s here to take. Natasha is not some pawn on a chessboard, she’s not some object that he can just throw away. She gave her life for the Stone but he refuses to let her die. Not like this. Not after everything she’s been through. 

He thinks of Bucky’s face as he says calmly, “take my soul for her’s. A soul for a soul, right? If you can’t take the Stone as a soul, take my own.” 

Reckless and self-sacrificing are the definition of Steve’s makeup. They are practically written into his DNA. 

It’s the least he can do for her, for Natasha, for the woman that shaped his 21st century life. She brought him in from the cold, showed him the ropes of modern day civilisation, allowed him to be Steve not Captain America. He learnt so much from her, the Black Widow, the Avenger with shared life experience. 

Bucky may well kill him but this is Steve’s job, the reason Erskine gave him the serum in the first place. He protects the people and is willing to die for them. 

He was never meant to live past eighteen anyway. Not with his illnesses and the war. 

Red Skull acknowledges this and drifts closer. Steve mirrors him. He knows how this goes: death and him are very well acquainted at this point. 

He thinks of his mother, her yellow hair and determination. He can do this all day. He thinks of Bucky, of curling around him in the Winter when every breath could be his last, of resting on the fire escape drawing him while he smoked. He thinks of the Howling Commandos, of Peggy, of Tony. 

Most of all, he thinks of Natasha. He remembers learning bits and pieces of her past through brief comments: the Red Room, the killings, the history between herself and Bucky, her ledger of red. She never deserved this.

Red Skull lifts a skeletal hand and Steve closes his eyes, Stone gripped tightly in his fist. A flash of light, ringing in his ears, cold flooding through his veins. Death comes quickly. 

Only. Only he swears he’s still breathing. Spreading out his hands, he finds himself flat on his back in a few centimetres of what he hopes is water. Opening his eyes, he’s met with that same purple sky and no Soul Stone.

So not dead then. He slowly pushes himself upwards, scanning his body for any injuries. He doesn’t understand. 

“Even a fossil like you can get up quicker than that.” A voice from behind him speaks, in a croaky, hoarse way. 

He twists around, eyes wide at the sight. Natasha Romanoff sits there, red hair plaited back in the style he remembers watching her leave in, green eyes as wide as his, betraying the only tell that suggests she’s as confused as he is. 

“I assume it’s been more than a minute.” She continues and it takes him three seconds to make up his mind before he scrambles upwards and lunges across the distance to pull her into a tight embrace. 

He breathes her in and everything settles. She’s warm against him and he can’t help but bury his face in her hair. “I hope this means we won. I did not go through all that trouble to throw myself off a cliff for you to tell me Thanos has enslaved the human race.”

“We won.” He murmurs and saying that almost breaks him completely. The words rush out before he can physically stop them, “Tony almost died when he took the Stones and snapped his fingers. We shared the power and he survived and everyone came back and Loki’s also alive but he’s not telling us how or why and-“

She places a finger to his lips as she pulls back, a smirk spread across her face. “You can tell me after we go home and you tell James how you were willing to give your soul for mine.” 

“I-“ he blinks at her. “How did you know I did that?” 

“Assassin and Avenger, remember?” Before he can comment on how that explains nothing she barrels on. “Now take me home, Captain, before I give the hooded figure your soul.”

When they arrive back, Clint breaks down along with Bruce. Tony pulls Natasha into a long hug and explains that if she does anything like that again, he’ll hunt her down and make her a national hero. She doesn’t cry but if Steve catches her wiping her eyes briefly, he doesn’t mention it. 

When a woman with blonde hair appears out of nowhere four days later and shoves a knife to Natasha throat, calling her unforgiving names in Russian, they are all surprised as Natasha tugs her into a sisterly embrace. Yelena Belova swears she will never join the Avengers but the Russian somehow finds a way in nevertheless. 

When Steve pulls Sam and Bucky aside, they don’t fully understand what he’s saying. Why would Captain America no longer want to be Captain America? But as he looks at Tony looking at Morgan as though she placed the stars in the sky, and at Clint showing his children the new Hawkeye, Kate Bishop, Steve realises that Erskine was right all along: a good man can never be a perfect soldier. 

With his serum, he knows that his ageing will be reduced. He can never be a normal man with a normal family and have the whole white picket fence lifestyle. But, he looks at Natasha sparring with Yelena, moves so fluid and thought out that it looks more like a dance than a fight; he looks at Bucky, with his long hair and tortured eyes, the same familiar smirk hanging off his lips; he looks at Sam, the man who will take his stead, his best friend who takes none of his shit and realises that this is his family. 

He may not have the cabin like Tony or the farm like Clint but he doesn’t want this life anymore. Steve has lived and fought and nearly died for this country, for this world. 

It’s about time he had some peace.


End file.
